why I’m perfectly apathetic, agreeable to an arranged marriage, and looking forward to a contractual future rather than a precarious one.
When no one is looking, I slip a Xanax under my tongue and savor the chalky taste as it slips down my throat.
Feelings can go fuck themselves and so can the boys who shouldn’t be able to bring them out of me.
This time, when they take me to my car, it’s in the school parking lot, a note stuck under the windshield, one Ransom takes it upon himself to read, tear in half, and toss through my open window once I’ve climbed inside.
He pauses there beside me, waiting for me to pick up its pieces, but I don’t.
I wait to read it when they are as good as gone.
Come by for a nightcap.
~ Scott
I take a deep breath... and head his way.
He’s on his balcony when I pull in, so I start up the spiral staircase at the edge of the garden that leads to the entrance of his room. The place is basically a New York-style flat with a living room, kitchen and all.
It’s a singular, large, and wide-open space with glossy gray flooring and matching beams running up the walls every four feet or so, the entire thing made up of black glass windows you can see out, but not in. It’s extremely modern and screams bachelor. And his parents added it just for him.
He meets me at the landing with a grin.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming, but perfect timing.”
I give him a quick half hug, and he latches his arm around my shoulders, steering me indoors.
Leaving my side, he slips behind his bar, grabs a glass and empties the contents of the blender into it. My brows lift as I accept the slushie-like drink, knowing, without a doubt, he wasn’t the one drinking it.
He notices my expression and chuckles, tapping his knuckle on his near-empty tumbler. “Jules and Dax came by for a bit. She made it and that’s what’s left. I was about to pour it out... and then I saw you coming.”
I pull the glass to my mouth, allowing it to coat my lips so I can taste the red concoction. “Do you always sit around and stare at your security cameras?”
“Only when I’m waiting for someone to pop up on them.” His smirk is a mix of triumph and assurance.
I cross my legs, my forearms resting on the cold granite. “You were so sure I would, huh?”
He nods, and the superior glint in his eyes is clear—he truly had no doubt.
I’m not sure what that says about me, or him for that matter, so I look away, push to my feet, and step out onto the back side, wraparound balcony. Behind his house is where his family’s vineyards began, now relocated to a far larger estate, but enough to service the house and more remains.
“All this at your fingertips, and still, you go for the hard stuff.”
“We leave the wine to my mom and her friends. Trust me, they go through enough without help from me.”
“I don’t doubt that.” To love a good glass of wine is pretty much a prerequisite around here.
Scott turns his body to face mine, so with a long exhale, I meet his move. His hand slips into my hair and when I don’t pull away, he lowers his lips to mine.
I’ve kissed him before, on his yacht, when he blocked my exit on the stairs, and like then, he tastes of bitter bourbon and stale smoke, but most of all—privilege.
My fingers never leave my glass or the railing, and he doesn’t give up the drink in his hand either.
He kisses me simply to remind himself he can, and I let him in hopes it helps me to forget, to bring the numbness back.
It doesn’t and when he pulls back, it’s with a grin of arrogant proportions, so I smash my lips into a smile for his benefit.
I pull away, taking a few backward steps. “See you at school?”
He nods, so I turn to leave.
“There’s a difference, you know,” he says, his tone crisp, yet calm.
I glance over my shoulder, and he continues, “In hooking up and fucking up.” His eyes hold mine. “Stay on the right side of that.”
I keep my face blank, but we both know I understand what he’s saying.
Scott’s so used to his whole crew eating up his every word and likely believes he’s offering me some invaluable advice. Unfortunately for him, he’s unaware that